


Love in the Dark

by rememberednoah



Series: adele's 25 stucky fic challenge [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Crying, Cussing, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Screaming, Self-Hatred, Service Dogs, but only a little hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberednoah/pseuds/rememberednoah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky Barnes thinks he doesn't deserve someone as good as Steve in his life. In which Steve tries to convince him otherwise. In which Steve fails and Bucky leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this should have some trigger warnings, but I'm not sure which to put? Pretty much don't read this if thoughts of self-hatred trigger you or something? I suck at this. I am sorry. 
> 
> Also, this is the first part of what I will call the Adele's 25 stucky fic challenge. It is not an actual challenge out there. I'm just insanely inspired to write stucky fics thanks to Adele's new album and thus I will attempt to write a fic for all the songs. I'll probably only do like three more, though, and they will all be unrelated to one another. The title of this fic is the same as the Adele song that inspired this fic.

Bucky had never wanted it to end this way. He was supposed to succeed. His new mission, ever since he came back to Steve, was to become the man that Steve not only _wanted_ but _deserved_. He'd tried his hardest. He'd tried so hard that it broke him, it _teared_ him apart that'd he'd failed. He _hated_ that he had not been able to be once more be the man that Steve needed him to be. He'd remained broken, his hands tainted with blood, his conscious plagued with a million nightmares. 

Although, it had not started out that way. At first, it seemed like there was hope. In the beginning, they _both_ thought it could work.

**\- - -**

The transition between Bucky living in his own place and moving in with Steve was not fast. Bucky first had to surpass the mistrust he felt. It wasn't that he didn't trust Steve, it was that he didn't trust his own memories and his reactions to them. So, for a few months, both men lived apart. Bucky did it to protect Steve even though the blonde insisted he did not need protection.

Bucky moved in only when he thought he could handle it. The second he felt like he wouldn't _hurt_ Steve, he decided he could move in with him. The day he called Steve to tell him he was ready, that he could take that next step, he knew Steve would be overjoyed. He hadn't been wrong. 

The day Bucky was going to move in with Steve and first knocked on the blonde's apartment door, Bucky knew what to expect. When he saw Steve ecstatic, fighting to hold in all the happiness he felt, he couldn't help but smile. Steve tried to keep a calm facade so he didn't scare Bucky away, but Bucky could have seen his happiness spilling out of him from a mile away. In the very beginning, this happiness was reassuring. 

Still, even when Bucky decided to move in with Steve he was adamant about sleeping in a separate room. He didn't want to get Steve's hopes up. He remembered what they'd had before and he didn't want Steve to think they would immediately jump back to that. Bucky was not even been sure he _wanted_ that again. This thought, though, lasted only a month. After one month with Steve reassuring him, telling him kind words, reminding him that he _did_ still love him, he'd convinced Bucky to share a room. 

The sharing of a room, a bed, was mostly chaste. Bucky was still not ready for _more_. The first night they shared a bed, Bucky did not sleep at all. All through the night, he stared at Steve. He was not sure what he was afraid of, but he couldn't find the peace to just close his eyes and sleep. Therefore, he watched Steve's chest rise and fall with even breaths. He watched the blonde sleepily shuffle from one side to the other. He froze in place when unconsciously Steve put his arm around him. 

No, he did not sleep at all that first night. After that night, though, it was easier. It was sharing a bed with Steve that convinced him every night that he could actually stay and that this could actually be his future life. During the day, he felt like he didn't deserve this. He felt like he was unworthy of having Steve back in his life, having the blonde love him, after everything he'd done. It was during the night that Steve soothed his concerns away. The relief, the peace, lasted only a few minutes, about an hour, but it was enough for the time being. 

"Buck, what is it? You look like you're not here." Steve's words made Bucky snap back into attention. He'd been staring off at the ceiling, thoughts muddled and clouded by guilt and self-loathing, when Steve's words broke through. 

Bucky looked at the blonde, expressionless, and opted on not answering his question. He simply shook his head and moved closer to Steve, tentatively reaching out towards Steve and balling up some of the fabric of the blonde's T-shirt in his hand. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and buried his face in Steve's chest. He preferred keeping his thoughts in, he'd scare Steve if he spoke up what he was feeling. What was worse, he'd probably inspire the blonde to go off in a long speech about how Bucky was wrong about himself and he didn't want that. He just wanted to clear his head, for it to just empty out for a few moments. 

Steve put his arm around Bucky's waist, drew him closer to him, and rested his chin on Bucky's head. "Okay, Buck. We'll do this." 

Just that was enough to shut out the noise in Bucky's head. It was more than calming, it was _blissful_ for Bucky to be able to think of nothing. All he was certain of was that he was _safe_ and that he was in the arms of someone that loved him. It was enough for that moment. It was more than Bucky had ever thought he'd ever have again. 

**

\- - -

**

Steve and Bucky's first fight came as a surprise. The day started off like any other day, nothing about it was particularly different from any of the previous days. The only difference was that Bucky had woken with a heavy cloud burdening him. He woke feeling moody and irritable and hating himself. He tried to keep his cool and all through the morning he succeeded. He managed not to snap at Steve or bring down the mood in the room. 

It was late in the afternoon, when Bucky was flipping through the channels on the TV, that things sort of blew up. Steve had gone out to do _something_ with Sam and Bucky had been left all alone in the apartment and it was Steve's arrival that set him off. 

The blonde walked into their room, carrying a bag of carry out, and a goofy grin on his face. He was in an excellent mood, but seeing him this way was not what set Bucky off. It was the words of the blonde that made Bucky snap for the first time. 

"Hey, Buck, I've got you something you used to love back in the day. I understand if you don't like it now, but I thought there wasn't any harm in trying, right?" Steve spoke the words cheerily and then gave Bucky the most innocent and genuine look the dark haired man had ever seen. It _pissed_ him off. 

"I don't want it," he snapped, eyes flickering away from the blonde and back to the screen of the TV in their room. Even without looking at him, he sensed Steve's flinch. 

"Alright, Bucky. I guess I should just put this away for later and head out and get you something else for dinner. Is there anything in particular you want?" Steve was trying to be the better man, as always, and it was getting right under Bucky's skin. 

"I don't want anything, Steve." Bucky threw out the words like knives. They didn't miss their target. 

"Bucky, what's going on? Is there something in specific I said that's bothering you? Whatever it is, you just have to tell me and I'll stop, but you need to _talk_ for that," Steve said, sounding only mildly put out. 

Bucky's eyes fell back on Steve and what he saw only made his blood boil. He was not sure what was going on with him. " _That_ , what you're doing right now, is what's bothering me! You're so fucking nice and considerate all the time! How can you _stand_ it? It makes me feel like even more of a failure of a human being. You're always so _damn considerate_ and I don't fucking deserve it!" 

"That's not true, Buck. You _do_ deserve it. I know you've gone through hell and it's my job as your _friend_ , as the man who _loves_ you, to take that into consideration. I need to make sure that whatever I _do_ doesn't make you feel uncomfortable." 

Bucky jumped up to his feet in one smooth motion and pushed past Steve. He didn't want to start shouting. The blonde would not understand. Steve _couldn't_ understand.

**\- - -**

Bucky couldn't get out of his head. The words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his head. _You're a murderer. You're ruthless. You're heartless. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve him. You murderer._

He couldn't shut out the words. The harder he tried to shut them out, the louder they got, and the more they reverberated in his brain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. The voice was _right_. 

He stormed out of his shared room with Steve and forced himself to take a shower to clear his head. It did not work. He turned on the water, the scorching hot droplets hitting his naked flesh without him even feeling it. He shoved his head down the shower spray and started hitting the tiled wall in front of him. He hit it again and again and again. He couldn't feel any of it. The voice in his head only got _louder_. 

_Murderer. You're just a filthy murderer. Think of all those innocent people you've killed. Do you really think Steve will forgive you? Do you think you **deserve** his forgiveness? You don't. Unworthy, ruthless, faithless murderer. _

Bucky turned the water even hotter. It was burning his skin, but he didn't feel it. He thought someone might be calling his name, but he wasn't sure. The voice in his head was deafening. There was nothing but that voice in his head telling him everything he feared, everything he knew to be the _truth_. He couldn't shut it out. He couldn't make it _shut up_. He punched the tiled wall once more. He wasn't sure if he was breaking it. He wasn't even sure he cared if he was. 

"Bucky," the word was a weak whisper. It should have sounded like a shout, but it barely graced Bucky's ears. He was trembling, his fists were shaking, the water was boiling, and the voice was only getting louder.

_He doesn't really love **you**. He **can't**. After everything you've done, there's no way for him **to** love you. He just loves the other you, the one from the war, the one who laughed and smiled and wasn't broken. He doesn't want you. You're a worthless piece of shit. _

There was a loud crash. It broke through Bucky's thoughts like a knife. Even then, he did not move, he froze under the stream of water raining down on him. Someone pulled open the shower curtain, he saw, but didn't really understand, Steve shutting off the water and grabbing hold of his shoulders. 

"Buck," it was a breathless whisper, a broken plea. Bucky met familiar blue eyes, but he still could not understand. 

" _Bucky_ ," the word was spoken more firmly then. It still wasn't enough to make Bucky understand. He felt _lost_. 

Two warm hands cupped his cheeks and blue eyes stared fiercely into his own. "Bucky, damn it! Look at me!"

Bucky gasped into awareness. It all came into focus for him all at once. He cringed away from Steve's touch, pushing away the blonde's hands. He rushed out of the shower, water dripping down his body, and ran to their room. He closed the door behind him before Steve could follow after him. 

"Bucky, don't shut me out. Let me _help_ you," the blonde begged from the other side of the door. 

"Go away! Just fucking go away, Steve!" Bucky shouted, hands shaking, voice wavering. 

" _Buck_." The word was shattering. 

"Just shut up! Fucking shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Bucky shouted over and over again. His own shouts made his head ache. He covered his ears with his hands and kept whispering or screaming or sobbing out the same words, "Shut up. Just shut up." 

At some point, Sam came. He made it better. He helped Bucky to settle down, but Bucky knew there was no going back from that. Even though he'd been stabilized by Sam's calm words, he knew he'd broken the image of ever being okay again. He believed the words wholly now, deep down in his core he knew the words his brain spewed were true, he just pretended like he didn't know. 

**

\- - - 

**

About a month had gone by since Bucky's meltdown, but the fights had only gotten more frequent. They were loud and angry and frustrating and heartbreaking. Bucky couldn't seem to stop. Steve couldn't seem to be able to give up on him. Bucky was scared he would never give up. 

"Bucky?" The dark haired man did not turn at the sound of his name from the lips of Steve. His eyes were trained on looking out one of the windows of their apartment. He was staring out at the surrounding buildings, at the people walking down the street, and he didn't think carefully about his next words. 

"Do you really believe I can get better?" 

Steve didn't hesitate before he replied. "Of course. You're already better now than you were a few months ago. I don't doubt for one single second that you can get better, that you can feel stable and happy again." 

"Happy," Bucky repeated the word as if it were foreign. It sounded like something he hadn't felt in a long time. He probably had, for a scarce few seconds while he was with Steve, but the memory of it always faded. It was like the emotion graced him just enough for him to feel a tickle of recognition, but not the full force of the emotion. 

"Buck." Steve quickly caught on to the fact that Bucky was in a dark place again. He was going there more and more frequently. He fought with Steve more and more. Bucky hated shouting at the blonde, but he couldn't seem to stop. 

"I don't deserve a happy and stable life. All those people I killed, Stevie, _they_ didn't get happy and stable lives. Their lives were cut short by _me_ and their family. . . Shit, their _family_." Bucky's chest ached at the thought. He hated this. He hated himself. He hated what he'd done. He hated his memories. He would have preferred ignorance or death. 

"You didn't kill those people, Bucky. That was the Winter Soldier and you're not that. You're not Hydra's weapon anymore. It wasn't _you_ who did any of that. You wouldn't have willingly done any of it," Steve said, immediately trying to amend things, to _fix_ Bucky's thoughts, to _fix_ him. 

"But it _was_ me, Steve. I remember it. I remember doing it. I remember too much of it," Bucky said, the words rising in tone as his self-loathing grew. 

"That _wasn’t_ you. The Winter Soldier? That was never you. It was something you were twisted and brainwashed into becoming, into _acting_ like, but it was never you." Steve's words failed to reassure. Bucky could tell he was trying so hard. He wanted the blonde to stop _trying_ so hard. 

"How could it _not_ have been me? If I remember it all so _fucking_ well, how can it have been anyone but me? How can you stand to look at my face without thinking of all the innocent lives I took? How can you bear to sleep next to me? _I_ can barely stand to sleep in my own damn skin, Steve," Bucky said, tone closer and closer to a shout. He could feel the frustration building up in him, ready to explode, ready to burst out in filthy and terrible words. 

Steve broke the distance between them and cupped Bucky's face in his hands. His eyes were already brimming with tears. It was seeing the blonde like that which always broke Bucky's resolve. He hated causing Steve pain. 

Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky's and whispered, the words as soft as a caress. "Please stop this. I don't want to fight. Don't make me fight with you." 

Bucky stared at Steve, at his closed eyelids, dark blonde lashes casting long shadows. He both wanted to kiss the blonde's closed eyes and run away from his touch. He was so unworthy. He shouldn't be so weak. He shouldn't stay when he knew Steve deserved so much better than him. 

Steve opened his eyes, brilliant and blue and in love, and Bucky wouldn't continue to fight. He would lose this fight, as he lost all the others. He would let Steve kiss his forehead, kiss his lips chastely, and would let him draw him close. 

Bucky was weak.

**\- - -**

The next months were a repetition of the same thing over and over again. For a while, Bucky would think he had succeeded. In the middle of the night, while Steve was either awake or asleep, Bucky would convince himself that he'd made it. He was _worthy_ and he was _good_ enough for the man sleeping beside him. It was easy to think that when it was the middle of the night and he'd woken from a nightmare and there was Steve, comforting him, telling him it was over, he was free, and he was safe.

In those moments, where all Bucky could think was that he was blessed beyond belief to have Steve by his side, he thought he might actually be crawling back to the man he used to be. When Steve had an arm around him or his hands were in Bucky's long strands of dark hair or his fingers were tracing nonsense lines on Bucky's back, that's when Bucky thought he could succeed. In those small moments he thought he was strong enough to stay, strong enough and good enough to be accepted in Steve's life. 

It was every other moment that reminded him that he was wrong and that's when the fights continued. He was never going to be _enough_ for Steve because he was a murderer. He had more blood on his hands than he'd like to think. Steve told him it wasn't his fault. Steve told him it was Hydra. Steve told him it was the past and that he'd been brainwashed and so it hadn't been him. Bucky wanted to believe him. He tried as hard as he could to believe Steve, but he _couldn't_. He remembered the faces. He remembered the _missions_. The fact that he'd hurt Steve, had nearly killed him, wasn't the only thought that plagued his nightmares. It was everyone else. Every innocent life he'd taken. 

Bucky remembers vividly every single fight with Steve about this. Bucky knew he was a murderer, unforgivable, disgusting, but Steve refused to accept it. And so they kept fighting, a lot, and then they'd make up. It was like that, over and over again, until Bucky got tired and stayed quiet. Until Bucky couldn't handle Steve shouting things he could never believe. He didn't deserve Steve's faith in him. He didn't deserve Steve in general. 

_Steve. Steve. Steve._

The thought of him ate him from the inside out. It wasn't that he didn't love Steve, he did, too much, so much that Steve's acceptance of him made it unbearable. He would have preferred for the blonde to loathe him, reject him, discard him like a bad memory, but he never did. He persisted. He insisted that this could work, that _they_ could work, that this was all possible and okay. That it was all okay now. 

It was not okay. It would never be okay because Steve deserved _better_ , so much better than what Bucky could ever give. Bucky tried multiple times to cut things off. He tried to just run away again, but it never worked. He would look at Steve, at his pleading blue eyes, at the tears threatening to come out, and he would stay. He would look at the man he loved too much to bear and he stayed because he was selfish. Because he hated to see Steve so broken. He didn't want to cause the blonde pain, but he also couldn't stay. He _couldn’t_ , because it would drive him towards madness. But he kept pretending for as long as he could bare. He would pretend things were okay, that he and Steve were fine, that everything was fine. 

The act could only last so long and Bucky broke down frequently. It always seemed to happen in the worst moment imaginable. The time he broke down for the last time, it was in a moment when he should have persevered, convinced himself he could stay. All he was in that moment was just harshly reminded of how undeserving he was. He'd been reminded that he _couldn't_ stay and so he failed Steve. He failed himself and Steve, but he couldn't do it anymore. 

What Steve did was too sweet, too caring, and such a perfect display of his love for Bucky that it just made him _snap_. When it happened, the beginning of the end, Bucky was sitting on the couch, flicking through one of the books from the never ending list of books everyone had recommend him. Steve had been out of the apartment for quite some time. Bucky found those moments the most relaxing, when he was on his own, thoughts clouded and dispersed by whatever book he was reading. He could pretend like he was a completely different _entity_ in those moments. He was just a man, on a couch, reading a book. 

Bucky reached the most exciting part of the book when the front door opened. He was proud in that moment of the fact that he didn’t even jump in surprise and got defensive at the sound of the door suddenly opening. He heard the keys jingling, only Steve had keys so it could only have been Steve at the door, and so he remained calmly reading the book. It was only with Steve's smiling greeting that Bucky looked away from the pages of his book. "Hey, Buck."

Bucky stared incredulously at the four legged animal Steve brought into their apartment. It was a dog, a beautiful Golden Retriever, with its little vest that signaled he was a service dog. Bucky stared at the animal as if it had sprouted horns and a devil's tail and then looked up at Steve. 

"I thought it would be good for you to get a dog. They're usually trained specially to tend to the needs of the person they're gonna help, but I convinced—" Bucky cut the blonde off with a sharp look. 

Steve sighed, tried to speak, but Bucky held up a hand. "You got a _dog_? A service dog? You got me a _fucking_ service dog? When did I ask for this? I don't remember _asking_ for a dog, Steve. What were you thinking?" 

The dog immediately started pulling at his leash, trying to get closer to Bucky, but Steve's grip on his leash was like iron. Bucky got to his feet, discarding his book haphazardly on the couch, and took a single step towards Steve. "What the _fuck_ is this, Steve?" 

Bucky bit back more hateful words for the moment and stretched out his hand. "Give me his leash." The words were ice. 

Steve surprisingly did as Bucky asked. Bucky figured he was stunned into paralysis by Bucky's behavior. The dark haired man yanked gently on the dog’s leash and the dog followed after him. Bucky took the animal over to the room he shared with Steve and locked it inside of it with a slam of the door. He was _done_. He was _finished_ with this life. 

Bucky stormed back into the living room and harshly said, "Sit down on the couch and don't fucking look at me." 

"Bucky—" Steve was already trying to amend, trying to sneak into Bucky's brain, to make things _okay_. 

"No! Don't _call_ me that! I'm not Bucky. I'm not your goddamned Bucky! I will never be! Do you honestly think a fucking dog is going to _fix_ that, to _fix_ me? I can't be fixed! I can't be _your Bucky_!" Bucky shouted, the words tumbling out in a wave of harsh stabs toward Steve. 

Steve stood in stunned silence for a moment, standing before the couch, before reaching out toward Bucky. The dark haired man cringed away from his touch and took a step back. "Stop it, Steve. Just stop! Will you stop for five fucking seconds?" 

"Bucky—" He flinched at the sound of the nickname as if he'd been hit. Steve tried again, "Just give me a chance to explain. You just need a moment to get out of this headspace you're in."

"What headspace, Steve? The one where the cold truth is waiting? I don't want to leave that headspace because it's the one that reveals the truth. I'm a murderer and you can't seem to get that through your thick skull. I'm a murderer and I shouldn't even fucking grace your fucking eyesight." 

"Don't say that. None of that is true. You're _not_ a murderer. What do I have to do, to _say_ , for you to believe that?" 

"But I am! I am a ruthless killer! The amount of innocent blood in my hands would make you shudder if you weren't blinded by who I look like. I'm _not_ Bucky. Bucky _died_ when he fell from that godforsaken train. He's gone _forever_. And I've tried, Steve, I've tried so _hard_ to get him back, but I _can't_." He was spewing out the words, hoping, praying, that the venom dripping in each word would make Steve back down, would make him understand. 

"I've never expected you to be that same man. I've never _asked_ that of you. What I _want_ , what I've _asked_ for, is to be close to you as you become whoever you will end up becoming. I know you're not the same Bucky Barnes that fell on that train so long ago, I sure as hell am not the same man from all those years ago. Just—" Steve struggled to find his words. He took another step towards Bucky. 

"Don't get any closer, Steve! Just stay there! Just fucking stay _there_ ," Bucky shouted, taking another step back closer to the door. He was sure he must have been shaking, but when he looked down his hands were fisted by his sides, stock still. 

Bucky made the mistake of meeting Steve's blue eyes. They were begging him, pleading him, to stop, to stay, to just believe what Steve believed. Bucky _couldn’t_ anymore. He couldn't. That dog, it was proof that Steve was all too good for him. He'd gone through the trouble of getting him a service dog, to help, to make him _better_ , and he didn't _deserve_ it. He didn't deserve _any_ of it. 

"You and I, Steve, are nothing alike. We are so immensely different. All these years, Steve, they've driven us apart. If you were in my head, you wouldn't recognize even a hint of who I've become and compare it to the Bucky Barnes you knew. The Bucky Barnes you fell _in love_ with, the one who _deserved_ your love, the one who wouldn't have cared if he'd been caught with you and killed for loving you the way they believed you were never supposed to love another man, he's gone. The person standing here in front of you, right now, is not even a quarter of how good you are. Do you see, Steve? This can't _work_. It can't work as long as you and I are so _different_." 

"Buck, don't _say_ that. Stop this. You're _wrong_." Steve's voice was cracking, splitting on the edges, breaking, tearing. Bucky hated himself for it. He needed to _end_ this. 

Steve's eyes searched his, burned him with the hurt and _love_ swimming in them. Bucky wanted to _punch_ something. "Don't look at me like that! Don't you understand that I'm trying to spare us both? If we keep this going we're just going to fight more and more and more until you finally learn to _hate_ me, until you despise me so greatly and I _resent_ you so much that it tears us both apart. It's _better_ if I just leave. If I just go." 

"If you leave, you'll be breaking me no matter what. I can't lose you, Buck, not again." Steve's voice was a knife to Bucky's chest. All Bucky knew how to do to spare them _both_ was to stab back. 

"You already have because you never had me back! Not really. So just stop, _stop_ trying to convince me to stay. Stop trying to convince me to keep on living a _lie_." 

"Buck—" Steve tried to break in, to say something, just the nickname itself was like a twist in Bucky's gut. 

"Just let me go, Steve. Let me _go_. I'm trying to spare us _both_ more pain. Do you _want_ more pain? Do you _want_ me to keep hitting you with lethal words until you give _up_?" 

"Why are you doing this, Buck? We can work through this, we were working through _all_ of this, why are you trying so hard to leave?" Steve pleaded, begged, and ripped a hole in Bucky's heart. 

"Because this will only end in more misery and torment if I stay. You can't _save_ me, Steve. You're too _late_. Stop trying to _save_ me." Bucky's hand touched the metal of the doorknob. He was ready to disappear, to just run out of Steve's life and never come back. If he did, he would be doing Steve a kindness. He would stop being so fucking selfish. 

"I love you, Buck. Just _stay_ , don't go." Bucky refused to look at the eyes of the blonde again. He knew what he would see there and it would only trick him into staying. He could not stay. 

"I loved you, Steve. I _loved_ you so much, Steve, so much it _hurt_ , but that's why I need to leave now. I can't do this anymore. This isn't a _life_." He knew those words were the final blow. He turned the doorknob, the one Steve had left unlocked due to Bucky's reception of his arrival, and he disappeared. He left knowing he would never come back, knowing they would never find him again, knowing what he was doing was the _right_ thing to do. He knew Steve would understand that, too, in time.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that this fic was just pure angst. I usually write fluff, but shit happens. Hope y'all don't hate me too much. My next fic will mend your broken hearts so watch out for that :)


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